Текст книги "Zipporah's Daughter"
Автор книги: Philippa Carr
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‘Of course not.’
‘With no one but Sophie. That was a very gallant sort of relationship, wasn’t it? It could have been because he was sorry for her. But what was I saying … handsome and courtly. His manners were of the very best … and such a good tutor, recommended by a noble Duc. It was all so very satisfactory. Tell me what Dickon discovered.’
I told her what I knew of the Duc d’Orléans and the Palais Royal, and Soissonson’s connections with them.
‘Dickon tells a good story. When you come to think about it, as good a one could be made up about him.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, let’s allow our imaginations to run loose, shall we? Dickon wants you … very much he wants you but he would like you even better if you brought something substantial with you. I suppose the Comte’s wealth is vast. Armand would naturally inherit the bulk … but if Armand were no longer there … well, it is likely that Sophie’s being hors de combat, so to say, all that wealth might descend to you.’
‘Stop it,’ I cried. ‘It’s … horrible.’
‘You know what’s coming. If Armand were out of the way, you see … ’
I could not shut out the vivid pictures which came into my mind. Armand going to the river … someone waiting there for him … leaving the horse tethered … dropping the hat by the river … burying the body. Dickon had been out all that day, while Léon Blanchard had spent the morning with the boys in the wood and the afternoon they had sorted out their specimens. Dickon had been out, I remembered. He had come back late.
‘This is nonsense,’ I said.
‘Of course it is. The whole thing is nonsense. You will see Léon Blanchard returning soon and all this suggestion about the Duc de Soissonson will be explained.’
‘There is one thing which cannot be explained,’ I said, ‘and that is Armand’s disappearance … perhaps death.’
‘Yes.’ Lisette looked straight ahead. ‘It may be that one of our theories is right after all.’
Soon after Dickon’s departure the messenger who had come before to see Léon Blanchard arrived at the castle. He did ask to see my father but as he was out at the time left a letter for him.
When my father returned he sent for me and I went to his sitting-room where I found him anxiously awaiting me.
‘Come and look at this,’ he said and gave me the letter which the messenger had brought.
It was from Léon Blanchard and explained that he could not come back to us. He had found his mother very ill indeed when he returned and although she had recovered she was still in a weak condition. He had decided that he could not be so far from her and was most regretfully telling us that he was giving up his posts and was taking something near his mother’s house so that he could live with her and care for her. He thanked us for the happy time he had had in the castle.
He had sent separate notes to the boys telling them that they must work harder, that Louis-Charles must look to his grammar and Charlot to his mathematics. He would be thinking of them and the happy relationship they had enjoyed when he was under the Comte’s roof.
There could not have been more sincerely written letters.
‘And we are to believe that this man was a spy sent to us by Soissonson!’ said my father.
‘Reading those letters it does seem improbable,’ I agreed.
‘Well now,’ went on my father, ‘we have to look for a new tutor. I promise I shall keep Soissonson out of this!’ he added with a laugh.
I wondered what Dickon would have said if he could have seen those letters.
I was sure he would have insisted that they proved his case.
The whole household was talking about Léon Blanchard who was not coming back. The boys were clearly upset and Charlot said they would hate the new tutor. I explained that it was unfair to hate someone before you had seen him.
‘His trouble will be that he is not Léon,’ said Charlot.
The servants talked continually of what a delightful man he had been. ‘Always the gentleman,’ they said.
He certainly had the power to charm.
Lisette told me that Jeanne had said Sophie was taking Léon’s departure very badly.
‘I think that is the really tragic part of it all,’ I said. ‘I wonder if it would have come to anything if he had stayed.’
‘If he had intended it should, surely he would have done something about it.’
‘I am not sure,’ I pondered. ‘Class distinction comes very strongly into it and I imagine a man like Léon Blanchard would be very much aware of that. Perhaps he was just being chivalrous to Sophie and she, poor girl, longing to escape from what her life is here, imagined something which was not there.’
‘Poor Sophie,’ said Lisette. ‘His going is a tragedy for her.’
That night I was awakened by some dream to find myself in a state of terror. I could not understand what was happening. Then I was suddenly aware that I was not alone.
For those first waking seconds I was transported back in time to the days before my wedding to Charles when I had been awakened in just such a way to see Sophie at the foot of my bed in my wedding veil.
I cried: ‘Who is that?’
Then she came out of the shadows. She stood by my bed. She had taken off her hood and her face looked grotesque in the moonlight.
‘Sophie!’ I whispered.
‘Why do you hate me?’ she asked.
‘Hate you! But Sophie … ’
‘If you don’t, why do you try to hurt me? Haven’t I been hurt enough to please you?’
‘What do you mean, Sophie?’ I replied. ‘I would do anything I could for you. If it were in my power … ’
She laughed. ‘Who are you? The bastard. You have come here and won my father from us all.’
I wanted to protest. I wanted to cry: He was never yours so how could I take him from you?
She stood there at the end of my bed as she had done on that other night. She said: ‘You took Charles from me.’
‘No! You gave him up. You wouldn’t marry him.’
She touched her face. ‘You were there when this happened. You went off with him and left me.’
‘Oh, Sophie,’ I protested. ‘It was not like that.’
‘It is long ago,’ she said. ‘And then you told my father, did you not, that Léon wanted to marry me … and you persuaded him that it would not be right because he was only a tutor and I was a Comte’s daughter. I heard you talking to him about me at the moat.’
‘It is not true. I said no such thing. I said it would be good for you and for him. I assure you, Sophie, that is what I said.’
‘And he was sent away. There was this story about his mother … and now he is to stay with her and he won’t come back here. That is your doing.’
‘Oh Sophie, you are quite wrong.’
‘Do you think I don’t know? You tried to pretend first that he was a spy … you and your friend … that man … that Dickon. You are going to marry him, are you not? … when my father is dead and everything comes to you. What of Armand? How did you and your lover get him out of the way?’
‘Sophie, this is madness.’
‘Madness now, you say. Is that what you want them to say of me? I hate you. I shall never forget what you have done to me. I will never forgive you.’
I got out of bed and approached her, but she put out her arms to ward me off. She walked backwards to the door her arms stretched out before her as she went. She looked like a sleepwalker.
I cried: ‘Sophie … Sophie … listen to me. You are wrong … wrong about everything. Let me talk to you.’
But she shook her head. I watched the door shut on her. Then I went back to bed and lay there, shivering.
A Visit to Eversleigh
GLOOM HAD DESCENDED ON the castle. I could not forget Sophie’s nocturnal visit and I wondered how I could ever get her to accept the truth. I had not realized how much she had resented me. It was only since the coming of Charles, of course; before that she had accepted me as her sister.
Perhaps I had been too taken up with my own affairs to give enough attention to hers. Poor girl, so fearfully scarred, and then to lose the man she was to marry and again to have lost the chance of happiness. I must try to understand.
Marie Louise announced her intention of going into a convent. She had long thought of doing so and now that it was almost certain that her husband was dead, there was nothing to keep her in the château. My father was delighted to see her go. He said he thought it would lessen the gloom a little.
He was very anxious about me.
‘You are pining for Dickon,’ he said.
‘No, no!’ I protested. ‘Nothing of the sort. When he comes he creates … disturbances.’
‘But it is disturbance that makes life worth living for you and without it … is it not a little dull?’
‘I have the children and you.’
‘The children are growing up. Claudine is nearly thirteen years old.’
‘So she is.’ When I was that age I had been overwhelmed by Dickon for some time and had thought of marriage to him. Charlot was almost sixteen and Louis-Charles was a little older than that. It was indeed true that they were growing away from childhood.
‘And you are getting older, my dear,’ went on my father.
‘We all are, of course.’
‘It must be thirty-four years ago when I saw your mother for the first time. It was so romantic … dusk … and she stood there like a phantom from another world. She thought I was a ghost too. I had been hunting for a fob I had lost and I rose up suddenly on that haunted patch of land and really startled her.’
‘I know. You have told me.’
‘I should like to see it all again before I die. Lottie, you should go back. You should go to Eversleigh. You should make up your mind what to do about Dickon. I think you are in love with him. Are you?’
I hesitated. ‘What is love? Is it being excited by someone … enjoying the presence of someone … feeling alive when he is there and yet at the same time knowing too much about him … knowing that he wants power, money … and that he is prepared to do almost anything for them … not quite trusting … ? You see, I am trying to see his inadequacies. Is that love?’
‘Perhaps you are looking for perfection.’
‘Didn’t you look for it … and find it?’
‘I never looked for it because I did not believe it existed. I stumbled on it by chance.’
‘It was because you loved so deeply that you found it. My mother might not have been perfect.’
‘Ah, but she was.’
‘In your eyes, as you were in hers. Were you perfect, Father?’
‘Far from it.’
‘But she thought you were. Perhaps that is love. An illusion. Seeing what is not there and perhaps the more deeply one loves the more one deceives oneself.’
‘My dearest child, I should like to see you happy before I die … even if it means not having you with me. The greatest happiness I have known came through you and your mother. Who would have believed that a chance meeting could lead to that? It was an enchanted night, that one, and she was there and I was there … ’
I leaned over and kissed him. ‘I am glad that we pleased you … my mother and I. You pleased us every bit as much, you know. I loved the man I believed to be my father. He was kind and gentle … but you … you were different. You were so romantic and gallant in your castle. It was wonderful to learn that you were my father.’
He turned away to hide his emotion. Then he said almost brusquely: ‘I don’t want you to go on living here … growing older, wasting your youth. You are not like your mother. You are more able to take care of yourself. She was innocent. She did not see evil. You are not like that, Lottie.’
‘More … earthy,’ I said.
‘I would say more worldly. You know more of men than she did. You would understand the imperfections and bear them, and perhaps even love the more because of them. I think often of Dickon. He is no saint. But do you want a saint? They can be hard to live with. I think you are fond of him in a special way, and will never forget him whatever happens. So he is with you. He is indeed a man full of faults, but brave and strong, I would say. I think he should be the father of a child for you … before it is too late.’
‘I am not going to leave the château. I like it here.’
‘In this gloomy castle with Sophie in her turret casting her own special sort of spell over the place.’
‘The children are happy here.’
‘They will grow up and have lives of their own. I want you go to England.’
‘Go to England? What do you mean? To Eversleigh?’
‘I do. I want you to take the children, to see Dickon in his home, and there to decide what you really want. I think you should go there to discover.’
‘I shall not leave you.’
‘I thought you would say that. That is why I have decided that I will go with you.’
I stared at him in astonishment.
‘Yes,’ he went on, ‘I have promised myself. I too am tired of the château. I want a rest from it. I want to forget what happened to Armand. I want to forget Sophie brooding in her tower. I want a bit of excitement. What do you say that you and I, with the children, cross the water to England?’
I just looked at him in amazement.
He said: ‘You have answered. I can see the joy in your face. That is good. I am going to tell the children at once. There is no reason why we should delay.’
Charlot was wildly excited about the proposed visit to England. So was Claudine. Louis-Charles was so disconsolate that I said we must take him with us, and Lisette agreed that he might go. I was happy listening to them, making plans, talking of England which they had never seen, counting the days.
My father talked to them of what he knew of Eversleigh. Claudine would sit at his feet on a footstool, her arms clasped about her knees as she dreamily stared into space. Charlot plied him with questions; and Louis-Charles listened in the respectful silence he always showed in the presence of the Comte.
It was four days before we were due to leave when my father asked me to walk with him down to the moat. He took my arm and said slowly: ‘Lottie, I cannot make this journey.’
I stopped and stared at him in horror.
‘I have been letting myself pretend I would, shutting my eyes to truth. See how breathless I am climbing this slope? I am not young any more. And if I were ill on the journey … or in England … ’
‘I should be there to take care of you.’
He shook his head. ‘No, Lottie. I know. I have a pain here … round my heart. It is because of this that I want to see you settled.’
I was silent for a moment. Then I said: ‘Have you seen the doctors?’
He nodded. ‘I am no longer young, they tell me. I must accept my fate.’
‘I think a messenger should go to Eversleigh at once. They will be making preparations for us. And I will tell the children now that we are not going.’
‘No! I said I could not go. You and the children must.’
‘Without you?’
He nodded. ‘That is what I have decided … ’
‘And leave you here … sick!’
‘Listen to me, Lottie. I am not sick. I am merely old and unable to make a long and exhausting journey. That is not being sick. I don’t need nursing. If you stay here, there is nothing you can do. You cannot disappoint the children. You will go with them. That is my wish. And I shall stay here. I am well looked after. I have good servants. And you will come back to us in due course.’
I said: ‘This is a blow.’
He stared at the water of the moat and I wondered whether he had ever intended to come.
I couldn’t help being caught up in the young people’s excitement. We set out on horseback, considering the carriage too cumbersome and slow. Claudine rode between the two boys; she was growing very pretty and had a look of my mother. I think that was one of the reasons why she was the Comte’s favourite. She was sturdy, strong-willed and a little resentful of the protective air both boys showed towards her and the fact that they were inclined to treat her as a little girl. Charlot was handsome, dark-eyed, dark-haired with a quick alert look; Louis-Charles might have been his brother; they were close friends and got on very well, apart from the occasional disagreement which would end in fisticuffs as they were both hot-tempered.
We stayed a night at an inn which delighted them all, the two boys sharing a room and Claudine coming in with me. She was awake at dawn, eager to get on with the journey and making me rise with her.
She said: ‘There is only one thing missing to make this perfect. That is Grand’père.’
‘Pray don’t call him a thing,’ I said. ‘He would not appreciate that.’
We both laughed, but sadly because he was not with us.
The sea crossing provided a further delight to them and when we landed on English soil they could talk of nothing but Eversleigh. Dickon was at Dover to escort us to the house and there was wild excitement when Claudine flung herself at him and hugged him while the boys stood by grinning. Over Claudine’s head Dickon smiled at me, his eyes warm, but I did detect a hint of triumph in them and I thought: Even now he is thinking of winning.
But a visit did not mean that I had made up my mind. Perhaps I had been foolish to come. I had a fear that I was going to be swept off my feet, unable to make clear decisions, and I knew I must be wary of Dickon. He had the effect on me of potent wine.
Such memories came back. It was long since I had seen Eversleigh, but it always gave me a feeling of home. I did not know why that should be so since most of my life in England had been spent at Clavering. But this was the home of my ancestors. It seemed to wrap itself around me; it seemed to say: You have come home. Stay home. Home is the place for you.
Sabrina was waiting with a very warm welcome. She was as excited as the young people.
‘What a lovely house!’ cried Chariot.
‘It is not a castle,’ added Louis-Charles a trifle disparagingly.
‘Houses are really what you should live in,’ put in Claudine. ‘Castles are for sieges and holding out against the enemy.’
‘Some of our houses had to do that during the Civil War,’ said Sabrina. ‘But let me show you your rooms and you can explore the house later on. I am sure you will like it. It’s rambling and full of odd nooks and crannies. Your mother knows it well. It was once her home.’
Dickon said he would show them round in the morning when it was light.
We went to our rooms. I had my old one. I felt a twinge of sadness as I ascended the stairs because the last time I had been here my grandmother had been alive … so had my mother.
Sabrina knew what I was thinking. She said: ‘Your grandmother died peacefully. She never really got over Zipporah’s death.’
‘My father never has,’ I said.
‘I know.’ She pressed my hand. ‘But, Lottie, my dear, she wouldn’t want you to be sad while you are here. She would be so delighted that you had come.’
My old room. It must be more than ten years since I had been in it but it was still familiar to me.
Sabrina said: ‘Come down when you have washed and changed. We are eating almost immediately. Dickon thought you would be in need of a good meal.’
I washed and changed from my riding habit, and when I went downstairs I could hear the sounds of excited talking and laughter. The others were already in the punch-room close to the dining-room where, I remembered, they assembled before meals. I could hear Claudine’s high-pitched voice and the gruffer masculine ones.
I went in. There was a brief silence and then Dickon said: ‘You remember the twins, Lottie.’
Dickon’s sons! They must be almost twenty. Could that really be possible? I always thought of Dickon as being perpetually young. He must be forty-three. I had a sensation of time rushing past. My father was right. If we were ever going to make a life together, it should be soon.
I remembered David and Jonathan well. They had a look of Dickon and there was a certain resemblance in them which one would expect of twins. Jonathan took my hand first and kissed it; then David did the same.
‘I remember you came here once before,’ said Jonathan.
‘My dear boy,’ said Dickon, ‘she lived here. It was her home.’
‘It must be interesting to come back to a place which was once your home, especially when you haven’t seen it for so long,’ said David.
‘It is very interesting indeed,’ I told him; ‘but best of all to see you and your family.’
‘Don’t talk about my family, Lottie,’ protested Dickon. ‘It is your family as well.’
‘That’s true,’ said Sabrina. ‘Now we are all here, shall we go in? Our cook is a little temperamental and throws a tantrum in the kitchen if we let the food get cold.’
We went to the dining-room with its tapestried walls and oak table lighted by two candelabra—one at each end. It looked very beautiful. Sabrina set at one end of it and Dickon at the other; she had placed me on Dickon’s right hand. Claudine was between David and Jonathan who, I could see, were amused by her bilingual conversation. She could speak English very well, for I had taught her, but she kept forgetting that she was in England and breaking into French with results which the twin brothers seemed to find hilarious. Louis-Charles had always been a young man who knew how to take care of himself and he and Sabrina chatted together in a mixture of bad French from Sabrina and execrable English from Louis-Charles. Dickon devoted himself to me. He was watching me intently, I knew, proud of this gracious dining-room, of the meal which was served, of the fact that I had at last succumbed to his repeated requests to visit Eversleigh.
It was a happy evening and when it was time to retire, Claudine voiced the feelings of us all when she said: ‘It is wonderful for us to be here. But I don’t think I shall ever get to sleep tonight. I am too excited.’
Sabrina insisted on accompanying me to my room. She shut the door and sat down in one of the armchairs.
‘I can’t tell you how happy we are to have you here, Lottie. Dickon has always talked a lot about you and every time he went to France he said he was going to bring you back with him. I gather things are not very happy over there.’
‘There is a good deal of rumour.’
She nodded. ‘Dickon is full of foreboding. He has been saying for some time that you ought to get out.’
‘I know. He has mentioned it to me.’
‘Well … this is your home, you know.’
I shook my head. ‘My home is over there.’
‘I was sorry your father could not come with you.’
‘So were we all.’
‘Dickon says he is a very fine gentleman.’
‘Dickon is right,’
‘But he is getting old, of course. After all, you are English, Lottie.’
‘My father is French.’
‘Yes, but you were brought up here. There was never anyone more English than your mother.’
‘And never anyone more French than my father.’ I smiled at her. ‘You see, that makes me a mixture. I love Eversleigh. I love it here … but my husband was French and my children are. That is my home, over there.’
She sighed and said: ‘I am very sad sometimes. Your grandmother and I were very close, you know.’
‘I do know that.’
‘Now she is gone I miss her terribly.’
‘I know that. But you have Dickon.’
A smile illumined face. ‘Oh yes … Dickon. How I should love to see him completely happy. It was your grandmother’s dearest wish … ’
I interrupted her. ‘Yes, I know. She adored him.’
‘He is a wonderful person. It is a long time since poor Isabel died. People think it is strange that he did not marry again.’
I said with a sudden burst of anger which Dickon could arouse in me: ‘Perhaps a good enough proposition did not arise. He had Eversleigh, Clavering and a great deal, I gather, from Isabel … ’
Sabrina was the same as ever. In her mind, Dickon was above criticism and she did not see it even when it was blatantly expressed.
‘I know why he has never married,’ she said.
‘Well he has two sons. That is one reason why ambitious people marry, isn’t it?’
‘I remember in the days long ago when you were a child staying with us at Clavering—do you remember? You two were always together.’
‘I remember. That was after my mother inherited Eversleigh.’
‘He was so fond of you. We all were. He talked of nothing but Lottie … his little Lottie. And you … to you he was the sun, moon and stars and the whole universe thrown in.’
‘Children get fancies.’
‘It is rather charming when they persist through life.’
I said: ‘Dickon knows that my half-brother disappeared. It is some little time ago now. His body was never found but because of the situation in France we think he was murdered. My father is a very wealthy man. I have heard it said that he is one of the most wealthy in France. Charlot will inherit in time, but it will come to me first when my father dies … ’
She looked blank.
‘Dickon was very interested in the estate. I always remember how he came here to Eversleigh. He was just overwhelmed by it because it was so much grander than Clavering. I imagined Aubigné is much more valuable than Eversleigh, so you see he has discovered a great affection for me.’
‘He admired Eversleigh. Of course he did. Who wouldn’t? But he loved you, Lottie. He truly did. He never ceased to. I think he is unhappy at times. Do you know, my great desire in life is to see him happy.’
‘I know that,’ I told her. ‘Sabrina, you must be the most doting mother in the world.’
She smiled at me and said: ‘Well, I am keeping you from your bed and you must be so tired.’ She rose from her chair. ‘Good night, my dear. It is lovely to have you here. We are going to do our best not to let you go from us, Lottie.’
She paused at the door. ‘By the way, do you remember poor Griselda?’
‘Yes, I do. She kept Isabel’s rooms as they were at the time of her death. She was a little uncanny.’
‘She took a dislike to Dickon and spread tales about him and Isabel. She was so jealous of anyone who came between her and Isabel. We tried to stop her, but she was too old … senile really. It was a happy release when she went.’
‘So she is no longer with us?’
‘It must be all of five years since she died. The rooms have been thoroughly cleaned out and it is all very normal up there now.’
‘As you say,’ I murmured, ‘a happy release.’
She put her fingers to her lips and blew a kiss to me. ‘Goodnight, dear Lottie. Pleasant dreams. Don’t forget we are going to do everything we can to keep you with us.’
As Claudine had said, we were too excited to sleep that night.
I was happy at Eversleigh. I knew I was going to miss it when I went away. There was something about the green fields and the May sunshine that was essentially England and not quite the same anywhere else in the world. I loved the way the sun would rapidly be obscured and if we were out we would have to take shelter from the sudden showers.
It was the end of May and the April showers seemed to be lingering longer than usual this year. The hedges were full of simple wild flowers and I remembered how, when I was very young, my mother had taught me how to make a daisy-chain. I remembered the names of plants like silverweed, bird’s-foot trefoil, and lady’s-smock. I rode a great deal with Dickon and the boys. We were a merry party.
Sabrina would come in the carriage and we would meet at some special beauty spot where we would have a picnic. We went to the sea; but I liked the country best, for the sea reminded me of that land only just over twenty miles away where my father would be counting the days until our return. The sea reminded me, too, that this was ephemeral, and I was realizing with every passing day that I wanted it to go on.
I wanted to forget that Dickon loved power and money more than anything else, that he had married Isabel for what she could bring him, and that her faithful nurse had accused him of murder; and although there was such happiness at Eversleigh there were dark shadows too. I thought a great deal about Isabel, and those months when she was awaiting the birth of babies that did not come and the two who had killed her. How frightened she must have been, poor Isabel! It was as though her ghost had remained behind to come to me in quiet moments and sometimes very happy ones to remind me.
Dickon was constantly there. Charlot admired him very much, so did Louis-Charles who was very happy at Eversleigh. Lisette had never really given him that deep mother love which children need; she had not wanted him and had so disliked the farmer whom she had married that she must see that period of her life often through Louis-Charles. He threw himself into the life of Eversleigh and he and Charlot often went off together and came back with stories of the inns they had visited and the towns through which they had passed.
Claudine loved Eversleigh too. She went riding with the rest of them on some days and was delighted when Jonathan taught her how to take high jumps. I was a little worried about her, but Dickon said she had to learn and Jonathan would take care of her. She enjoyed the attention of both twins and I fancied rather revelled in bestowing her attentions first on one, then on the other. At Eversleigh it was brought home to me more than ever how fast my daughter was growing up.
Time was flying past.
‘Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying,
And this same flower that blooms today Tomorrow will be dying …’
sang Sabrina, as she sat at the spinet and I knew that she meant me to take heed.
Dickon was constantly with me, but he was clever. He did not suggest that I stay. He wanted Eversleigh to work its own magic on me.
I was conscious, too, of the peace of the countryside. There was a quietness in the air and I realized how different it was in that land from which that strip of water divided us. When I looked at those waves lapping on the shore, sometimes grey and angry, sometimes blue and gently swishing, I thought it was the great divide between this peaceful happy life and that of suspense and brooding menace.
I knew, when I was alone in my bedroom at night, that I wanted to be here, to stay here. It was my home, my country. And Dickon was here. If I were truthful I must admit I wanted Dickon.
Sabrina was watchful. To her Dickon was the whole meaning of life. She was blind to his faults; she thought he was perfect. Surely she must know what he was really like. Did she refuse to see it because she did not want to? She adjusted all his actions to fit her perfect picture of him. Her face changed when he appeared. Her eyes would follow him, her mouth curved in gentle contentment.
‘Nobody,’ I once said to Dickon, ‘has any right to be adored as your mother adores you. It’s irreligious. It’s blasphemous. I really do believe she thinks you are greater than God.’
